By Craig Kirchner
PROMPT — The way I see it ...
My spot, second house down,
across from the park,
attached to the main drag.
Rt.1 was a big deal,
attached us to the rest of America.
Mom said, ‘don’t go near it,
you can go in the park,
but don’t go near the Road.’
I was five,
ready for kindergarten -
six row-house blocks away,
across three streets,
and I’d be walking by myself.
I was excited, new friends,
a playground, dodge-ball.
Had not been out of the neighborhood,
I needed practice crossing streets.
What better challenge than the Road?
I waited until I was sure Rofie
was in the backyard hanging laundry,
went across to the park,
eased my way toward the ultimate no-no.
I could see two blocks in both directions,
waited until there was not a car in sight,
and ran as fast as I could across four lanes.
Quite proud of myself I turn,
and sure-enough Rofie
is standing on the front porch,
looking at me like I broke
all the mortal sins.
I got a beating and grounded,
but it turned out I was right.
Two weeks later,
that walk to kindergarten,
was a piece of cake.
Craig Kirchner thinks of poetry as hobo art. He loves storytelling and the aesthetics of the paper and pen. He has had two poems nominated for the Pushcart and has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels. Craig houses 500 books in his office and about 400 poems in a folder on a laptop. These words tend to keep him straight. After a hiatus, he was recently published in Decadent Review, Chiron Review, The Main Street Rag, Hamilton Stone Review, Bluestem, Journal of Expressive Writing, and several dozen other journals. Craig writes from Jacksonville, FL.
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